The silence in the infirmary was heavier than any wound.
Rian lay unconscious on a bloodstained cot, ribs shattered and flesh torn. Callum paced like a caged animal, glancing at Varen every few seconds—like he was trying to keep from lunging at him.
Virella sat beside the bed, knuckles white around the hilt of her sword, her eyes fixed on her brother.
"You knew," she said at last. "You had that venom ready. You planned for this."
Varen didn't deny it.
"I did," he said.
"Why?"
"Because I knew they would come eventually," he replied. "And because I know Alaric better than anyone. I used to be his best friend, remember?"
Virella stood slowly. "No. You're not dodging this. Tell me everything."
Varen turned away. "You won't want to hear it."
"I already know what you did," Alaric said, walking in, his shirt torn and blood drying across his jaw. "Now she deserves to know too."
---
Five Years Ago – Flashback
Varen stood beside Alaric, both of them laughing, breath visible in the winter air.
They were inseparable back then—two brilliant outcasts experimenting with vampire bloodlines and hybrid evolution. Alaric had just discovered his werewolf side, and Varen, always the scientist, wanted to understand it.
"We could change everything," Varen had said. "No more fragile vampires, no more uncontrollable wolves. Balance. Power."
But Alaric had warned him.
"There's a limit, Varen. Some things shouldn't be forced."
Varen ignored him.
Late one night, he injected Alaric with an experimental hybrid stabilizer—without telling him.
Alaric convulsed for hours. Nearly died.
And when he survived… he wasn't the same.
---
"You used me," Alaric said now, voice steady but cold. "I trusted you. And you turned me into a weapon."
"I was trying to protect us!" Varen snapped. "Don't act like you didn't want that power. You were craving it."
"You broke the code," Alaric said. "And you broke me."
Virella looked between them, anger flaring. "You experimented on him?"
Varen finally turned to her. "I did it for both of you. For our family. I saw what was coming. And you—you're what made it all worth it."
Her voice cracked. "Don't pull me into your lies."
"It's not a lie," he said, stepping closer. "You were never supposed to be just a girl caught between fangs and fur. I thought if I could create a way to protect you—to give us the upper hand—Alaric could lead it. He was strong enough."
Alaric stepped between them. "You didn't give me strength, Varen. You stole my choice."
---
The room crackled with tension.
"I should've killed you when I found the syringes," Alaric growled. "But I didn't, because Virella loved you. Because you were her brother."
Virella stared at Varen. "What else have you done?"
He hesitated.
Then pulled something from his coat—a worn notebook, bound in black leather and stained with years of blood and ash.
He held it out.
"I didn't just test the venom on Alaric," he said. "I tested it on others. Volunteers. Refugees. Some of them... didn't survive."
Virella took it slowly, flipping through pages. Notes. Drawings. Names.
And on one page—a girl. Young. Fangs. Claws. Eyes burned out from within.
"She was my friend," Virella whispered. "Marna."
"She begged me to help her," Varen said. "She wanted it."
"She died because of you."
Silence.
Then: "Yes."
---
Alaric walked to the window. He didn't look back.
"You always wanted to be the hero, Varen," he said. "But all you ever were... was afraid. Of being powerless. Of being forgotten. Of being second."
Varen's voice shook. "You don't get to judge me. You turned her too! You made Virella like you!"
Alaric turned slowly, eyes glowing.
"I asked."
That one word cut deeper than any blade.
Virella's breath caught. "You… did?"
Alaric nodded. "I told her everything. The risks. The pain. I gave her a choice."
She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes. "And I said yes."
Varen staggered back as if struck.
He had believed, all this time, that she'd been manipulated. Turned against her will. He had blamed Alaric. Hated him. Built a crusade on a lie.
"You… chose him?"
Virella nodded.
"I chose myself."
---
Night fell heavily over the estate.
Varen left without a word, the black notebook tucked beneath his coat. No one stopped him.
"I let him live," Alaric said as he stood beside her at the gates. "Because I think there's still a part of the boy I knew inside him. But if he steps out of line again…"
"I'll stop him," Virella said.
"Not if I do first."
---
Later that night, Virella sat by the fire, the notebook in her lap, unread.
She felt the shift in the air before she saw him.
Callum.
He sat beside her, eyes tired.
"Do you hate him?" he asked softly.
"No," she whispered. "But I don't trust him anymore."
They sat in silence.
"You were brave today," he said.
She looked at him. "I wasn't brave. I was angry."
"Sometimes they look the same."
She smiled faintly.
"I used to think blood made us who we are. But now I think... it's the choices we make when we're afraid. That's who we really are."
Callum nodded.
And in the firelight, something sparked between them—not love, not yet. But something real.
And real, she was learning, was rare.
---